Blink of the Eye
by DreamscapeWriter
Summary: In the blink of an eye, the world around you can change forever. The real challenge is what you do after that moment is over. Josh/Donna. Mild Angst. Rating will increase as chapters progress. Will cover alternate ideas of time and space during various tragedies of the series.
1. Chapter 1

* **Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they are the property of someone whom is a far greater writer then myself. I do not claim any hold on them; however, I wish I did.**

A second.

A single moment in time.

A moment is defined as an infinitesimal measure of time and space with no true start or conclusion. Which is why when something catastrophic happens, that moment can feel like an entire lifetime. The world appears to stand still as the tragedy takes over. At least to the person witnessing that tragedy. You see, time has this funny way of working in reverse for some people, while moving at lightning speed for others. It's the reason children feel that it takes forever to grow up, while adults wish they would just slow down.

In life, this is a common occurrence. Drivers in accidents often report everything running in slow motion just before the impact of the crash hits, sending time flying forward by minutes, hours, days, weeks. Sometimes even years. Sometimes, those moments in between are lost and can't be returned. A small toll to be paid in order to come out alright on the other side.

To a person in a coma, time passes by like the sands of an hourglass, returning slowly to normal from the moment they re-open their eyes. For the person watching from the outside, it feels like an eternity has passed. Waiting for the conclusion of a nightmare you can sometimes never come out of. But we're getting ahead of ourselves here.

So many things can happen in that moment. Planes can crash, bridges may burn, bombs could explode, and guns will go off.

In fact, statistics show that gun violence changes a life roughly every 25.3 seconds and that only includes the United States, let alone the statistics of near misses and recreational use. Needless to say, in a single moment, everything can change.

So imagine, if you will, the person on the inside, looking out into the coming storm. Not knowing what to expect, but seeing its' arrival none the less.

First, there's a sense of denial. You continue as though nothing is wrong.

 _Donna._

Then, the calm before the storm and the deafening roar that signals a chain reaction.

 _Josh was hit_

Your brain shuts down.

 _Hit with what?_

You can't think.

 _He was shot. In the chest_.

People might talking around you, to you, but you're oblivious.

 _He's in surgery now_.

But you can't grasp at the words they're saying.

 _I don't understand_.

You try to focus.

 _I don't understand. Is, is it serious?_

And then, silence. The kind of silence that builds a fear in every pore of your body.

Your lungs scream for oxygen. Breath. Just Breath.

 _Yes, it's critical. The bullet collapsed his lung and caused damage to a major artery._

And time stops.

If only for a moment.

What do you do?

As the panic fills your veins. As the bile rises from the pits of your stomach into your mouth. As your lungs ache. As your body threatens to shut down. You have a decision to make.

Fight or Flight.

What do you do?


	2. Chapter 2 - Fight

*Still not my characters. Still wish they were. I bow down to the God who created them so that I may but for a moment bask in the glory of all they represent.

Fight

The world is full of dangers that threaten to end our existence in the blink of an eye. At any given moment, we face nuclear warheads, hostage situations, terrorist threats, and domestic attacks. The will to survive is embedded in our genetic makeup. Luckily for us, the president of the United States has mastered the ability to block this sense and kept his hand off the button that would trigger the end of life as we know it. With the help of 14 or so Admirals and an excellent Chief of Staff to level his head. For the rest of us, it's not so easy.

It start's—with the pull of a trigger.

That trigger is all the body needs to release a shot of adrenaline into the system that sends the body into overdrive. The sudden release of hormones into the system cause the heart to beat faster, blood to pulse through the veins harder. The pupils dilate, muscles tense, breathing increases, and the body prepares itself for what comes next.

Do you stay and fight? Or do you run like hell and never look back?

You think it's an automated response, but you would be wrong. It's a calculated decision made in a split-second. Stay or Go.

For one moment, Donna actually considered running. The blood thrummed through her veins, roaring in her ears, blocking out the noise of those around her. For the briefest moment her eyes flitted to the window, the exit sign glowing in the distance. Freedom. Freedom yes, but not Salvation. Her eyes turned back to the room filled with familiar faces, but missing one.

Somewhere in this hospital, beyond the sterile white door, that face was out of sight. Eyes closed, breathing slowed, muscles stilled. If she left now, she would never see that face again, whether in life or death.

In that split-second, her body made the decision to stay and fight. If Josh couldn't do it for himself, then she would do it for him. Face set, she slumped into a seat, apparent weariness in every muscle of her smooth features. She looked exhausted, but her body was exhilarated by the high. The adrenaline that continued to push through her panic and fear of loss. The panic that would keep her vigilant for the long hours yet to come.

There is a common belief that right before we die, the body experiences a moment of clarity. Where all the blockings of our mind release in a flood of memories. From the day we are born to the time of our death, memories form in our brains. Over time, the connections and pathways that allow us to recall these memories degrade and breakdown. Near death, it is believed the body releases synaptic pulses in a last ditch effort to keep the body alive. These pulses, while brief, reconnect the broken bridges simultaneously creating a flood of information that the survivor retains. These connections usually breakdown after revival and are lost in the weeks that follow. While this process has yet to proven in modern science, it is certainly seen in those experiencing the phenomenon from the outside.

For the one on the outside looking in, the memories are more selective. It all comes down to a single factor. Regret. Memories may contain traces of happy times, but all have a consistent pattern of guilt. A feeling that time has played a cruel trick on them and passed them by. Driven by adrenaline, they can't even find solace in sleep, forced to relive each fight, each failure, each opportunity to make things right. Regardless of the validity, the feeling persists. Despair sets in and the five stages of grief become bargaining chips in the fragile game of life.

For a moment you find God, a false prophet deity that only comes when the getting is good. They can fulfill no promises, though they readily make them. Feasting on the fear and loathing to drive its' mal-intents.

Donna had no such luck when it came to the ways of God. She had long since given up the belief in such an individual and proclaimed the existence of one to be a myth for the foolish of heart. Once, not so long ago she had believed in one, believed that good people existed and would one day rule the earth. She would like to say her quick trip around the block with Dr. Freeride had cured her of such girlhood fantasies, but the truth was that her belief in anything good and decent had been on shaky ground for some time before he came along and kicked the remaining pillars of balance and let her resolve crumble away. What was left was an unsure girl barely capable of making a way in the world, let alone rely on a faith that had proven disloyal.

It was Josh who had somehow managed to restore her faith in humanity and even made her question her lack of faith, though not in a biblical sense. It was so easy to recall now the moment she had stood her ground and proclaimed herself to be more than the purse strings of a second rate medical student. Painful as it was to walk out of her apartment that night with little more than a change of clothes, fifty dollars, and a tank of gas. But she had drive and ambition and the desire to prove herself in the world. What better way to prove yourself then in the world of politics? If you could survive there, surely you could survive anywhere. Oh, she had so much to learn.

Josh had been the unwilling teacher. For one brief moment, she had truly believed he would simply accept her as his assistant without question, but the situation got out of hand quickly and she found herself struggling to prove not only her ability but her own self-worth.

 _Look._

The world was slipping through her fingers and she needed something, anything to hold on to and deep in her gut, she knew that this was her chance. To prove that she could be something more than the college dropout who had been duped by her ex-boyfriend.

 _I think I might be good at this._

She needed to believe that she could do something and to believe in something, she needed to believe in herself.

 _I think you might find me valuable._

Please God.

And just like that, something changed on the strict face in front of her. She saw it in his eyes first, then as his features relaxed. The phone blared behind them and for a moment, she felt sure he was going to reach past her, signifying the end of the conversation and the end of her last hope.

 _Go ahead._

And from that moment, her faith had been restored. But not in the God of her childhood, but in the eyes of a man who knew nothing of her or her skill but had seen something in her that she had begun to doubt even existed. As if to solidify the deal, he had pulled off his pass and handed it to her, effectively making her someone in a sea of nobodies. He had found her valuable and she had worked hard to live up to that expectation. A single moment that had altered her life forever.

Absently, she tucked a finger beneath the lanyard around her neck, tracing it with her fingers. It no longer proclaimed Barlet for America, but the picture was still there, hidden on the back of her White house pass. Tiredly, she pulled her gaze to the television in the waiting room. The story was nothing new to her, a plain hash and slash of what little information the press knew of the shooting. Speculation running rampant. In disgust, she looked away, thankful for the lack of sound lest she hear the commentary accompanying the headline now emblazoned along the ticker.

"Deputy Chief of Staff close to death," Top Aide says.

Aside from fueling the fires in the aftermath of an assumed assignation attempt, it was painful and wrong. Her eyes flitted back to the screen, full of animosity and hate. Then and there she vowed to find whomever said Aide was and show them promptly to the door. Sure, she may not have the clearance nor the authority for such action, but she knew people who did. She worked for one of them and they wouldn't stand for such a clear breach of White House protocol and procedure. The fact that each word was like a bullet into her own chest was beside the point. This wasn't about vengeance, but maybe it should be. Even she, kind-hearted, lovable Donna, who had never heard a fly, had to admit that vengeance was in her heart. It wasn't a sour taste that was left in her mouth when she learned that the shooters were both dead, it was the taste of victory.

Never would she have ever believed that the death of another person could bring her joy, but she felt it in her gut. It was her lifeline. Let her show regret tomorrow, today she needed her anger, her hate. Lest she give into the fear that was nagging at the back of her mind. The dread that whispered that headline over and over again. Reciting it until it was burned into her memory. Etched into her skin forever.

"Donna?"

The voice startled her and she turned to see the first lady standing next to her and slightly hovering. "Would you like some coffee?"

Donna was about her shake her head and politely decline before the first lady continued. "It's nearly 6 in the morning, Donna. If you don't get something into your system you'll never last through to the end."

That word panged in the depth of Donna's heart, her face fell, and she lifted a hand to cover her mouth as her eyes flitted around the room like a trapped animal seeking escape. In the process, her eyes locked on the clock and a small gasp came from her lips. "Is it really so late?" she responded in a tone of disbelief.

"Yes." Abbey replied, not adding that it was _technically_ early. Clearly, the girl had lost her sense of time and direction, which was to be expected. It reminded her of what she must of looked herself when she had first learned about Jed and—

She shook the thought away, and offered a weak smile as she looked over Donna more closely. They had talked briefly over the last few hours, though Abbey doubted if Donna would remember any of those conversations. It had both shocked Abbey and left her unsurprised when Donna had asked if there was something she should be doing. She knew in her heart the girl wasn't asking for herself, but rather for Josh's sake. It was clear by the look on her face that her head wouldn't be anywhere but here. That was Donna, selfless to a flaw. Jed and Leo had both commented on how compassionate the girl was and how they had feared she would lose that soft spot working for a man like Joshua Lyman who was cut to the quick, no nonsense.

Clearly, there was little room to fear such a thing. Donna was exactly what Josh had needed. She pulled him down a peg and gave him a push when he wanted to shove. She was also so efficient that Abbey often regretted not snatching her up for her own staff. Clearly, she was right where she was needed, there was no doubt. But there was more to Donnatella Moss than this shy girl from Wisconsin let on. It was in her eyes. The sheer terror of not knowing and being left out. It was likely the first time since starting at the White House that Donna was feeling the true rank of her position.

As a doctor, Abbey knew better. She knew the procedure and worse she knew the odds. It was a game of figures and chance. Even the most routine procedures were anything but routine. The slightest pull, the smallest tug, could send off a chain reaction situation with no clear cut exit strategy. Abbey knew from speaking with the surgeons during her hourly updates that Josh had already experienced two such twists of fate, fighting back each time at the last minute. It was touch and go, every action counted.

It was no place for emotions or feelings of the heart, which is why it surprised her when she said "Would you like to see him?"

Donna lifted her head and stared open-mouthed at Abbey. It took her a moment before she found her voice "Could I? I mean, I couldn't. I'm not family— surely…"

"You're as close a thing to family he has here," was the quick reply as she rose to her feet, readying herself to make the impossible, possible. Although she was a doctor, this was not her hospital. There were rules. Protocols. Pulling presidential strings was unethical, but under the circumstance, Abbey didn't feel that bending the rules a bit farther could do any harm. This could possibly be the last time the girl would see Josh and say the things she needed to say.

Donna watched as the first lady disappeared from the room, her eyes far away and distant. _Family._ Donna had never been particularly close with her family. She returned home for the holidays simply to appease the masses. It was what was expected, returning home to be close with loved ones during the holidays. To catch up on old times and celebrate, but Donna had always felt more alone at home than she had ever felt in Washington D.C. Josh was the closest thing to a family she had here, though she had never voiced it. She hated when he had gone home for the holidays to visit his mom. So much so that she'd once nearly invited herself to tag-along on the guise of Josh needing to work from home on the latest Welfare draft. He hadn't bought it, muttering something about not wanting to ruin her holiday by being stuck in a house with him and his mom when in actuality Donna had wanted nothing more, even if she had to pull the long hours working to do so.

A cold hand on her shoulder startled her from the memory and she looked up to find the first lady had returned. "Come with me, Donna."

She wisely said nothing more as Donna rose and made to follow her from the cold waiting room and into the cold and sterile hallway, oblivious to the questioning and worried eyes behind her. The echoing of her footsteps resounded in her head like gunshots, each more painful than the last. Finally, Abbey stopped and looked at her, a coolness had spread on her face as if she were preparing for battle.

"Donna, I need to prepare you for what you are going to see. I want to remind you that it's only temporary. There are blue sterile pads separating his face from the surgeon's activity. It will help to conceal some of the more—visual aspects of the surgery, but you're still likely to get an eyeful. He has a device holding his chest cavity open. This is to provide the surgeon's with easier access to his interior arteries and veins so they can repair the damage. You're going to see a lot of blood, so you need to tell me right now if that is going to bother you. The last thing we need is to have you collapse and hit your head, we have enough to wor—"

"I'm fine"

"Okay," she sighed and continued. "Josh is hooked up to a ventilator that is helping him to breath during surgery, he is also hooked up to a lot of tubing and wiring. This is to monitor his heart, respirations, oxygen levels… the walls are proofed, so you won't be able to hear. There will be a slight smell, so prepare yourself for that, "as she spoke, she could see Donna was barely registering her words, but she pressed on. "Donna, I'm not going to lie to you. There is a very real chance that while you are in here something could happen. If it does, I need you to leave the room. I need you to trust the surgeons to do their job."

Donna nodded, but said nothing, looking passed the first lady and towards the observation room. It was really little more than the scrub room for surgical prep, but it would provide a clear view to Josh without her being in the way. It took a moment for her to register that the first lady had stopped speaking and was waiting for her to say something, but she hadn't the slightest idea as to what the question could be. "I'm ready," she said, hoping that would suffice. It did and Abbey opened the door and led the way into the room.

Somehow, Donna made her feet move forward. Somehow, she ended up in the center of the room next to Mrs. Barlet and somehow, she managed to turn her head and gaze into the room before her. It looked like something from television. The sterile walls, the bright lights, the blue and yellow garbed individuals that flitted around the room at ungodly speeds but still managed to look calm and collected. Their attentions focused on a quartet of surgeons with their eyes focused downwards, hands moving swiftly, yet elegantly in their work.

Abbey placed a gentle, reassuring hand on Donna's arm before wisely leaving the room and allowing Donna to have a moment to herself. She didn't go far, only outside the door to talk to the waiting doctor about her husband's progress, as well as, Josh's.

Staring into the room, Donna took a tentative step closer to the glass, barred from going further by the edge of the steel sink before her. A sudden chill wrapped about her body, forcing her to wrap her arms about her waist, struggling for warmth, but the cold remained. A hand reflexively reached for the lanyard around her neck, tugging at it as a lifeline to connect her with the here and now when all she desired to do was disappear into the background of this bizarre nightmare that had become her reality.

A faint odor filled her nostrils, unpleasant and heavy. The realization that she was smelling burnt flesh caused the bile to rise in her throat and she fought to hold it down, dropping the lanyard to cover her mouth with the back of her hand. She stood there, fighting for control when an action caught her eye. It was split second, a mere moment, but in that moment she saw the vaguest hesitation. Then there was a sudden scurry of activity. Donna's eyes raced from one end of the room to the other. The monitors that were visible appeared normal, but the activity was anything but.

Then her eye caught it. The yellow button set in the middle of the window below what appeared to be a speaker. Without hesitation she reached up and pushed it. Suddenly, noise filled the small room. The sound of fear. Her breath caught.

"I can't see it. Can you see it? Damnit, where is it?"

"Suction, we need suction"

"No, the lung is fine."

"So is the pericardium"

 _Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep_

"His stats are falling"

"BP 90 over 50 and falling"

 _Flat line_

Something in her snapped, just as the door to the hallway open. Her lungs sucked in air, she found her voice.

"Josh."

It came out as a whisper and Abbey was there at her side.

"Donna, come with me. Come with me now…"

"Josh!"

Donna was more forceful, fighting the hold Abbey had on her arm. The doctor from the hallway, Dr. Holdgren came forward to help. "Ms. Moss, please…."

"We're losing him"

"JOSH!"


End file.
